


A Sonnet

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Filk, Gen, Poetry, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-03
Updated: 1999-05-03
Packaged: 2018-11-11 04:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11140659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	A Sonnet

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

A Sonnet

# A Sonnet

by Russet McMillan 

Well, I've never been able to write poetry worth beans, but look what crawled out of my head this morning (a couple hours _after_ my usual bedtime, naturally). It gets labored in places, but really, I'm ridiculously proud of myself. I just happened to notice that someone has fourteen letters in his name . . . 
    
    
    	Relying on yourself for all those years
    	As if you had no one whom you could trust
    	You learned to scoff at hope and mock all tears,
    	Make light of love, and never own to fears
    	Of death, or life itself; you think you must
    	Not show the truth, that underneath its rust
    	Drums your true heart, which honors and reveres
    	Virtues you claim are worthless as the dust.
    	Each time you say such words, I see your face --
    	Concealing all, you think -- but in your eyes
    	Clear as the light of day, shines warmth, not cold.
    	How could I guess, when I came to this place,
    	I'd meet a man so loyal, brave, and wise,
    	Or find a friend who's worth his weight in gold?
    

* * *


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